


Antipathy, Comity, Passion

by munzie (enjolrasenthusiast)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, here you go, i found this fic in my old notebook lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1988937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjolrasenthusiast/pseuds/munzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If I could find someone that loved me half as much as you loved him, I'd be the luckiest man alive."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antipathy, Comity, Passion

**Author's Note:**

> mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmy writing style changes more than my tumblr theme and thats saying a lot ////
> 
> speaking of tumblr mine is [irloikawa](http://irloikawa.tumblr.com)
> 
> ok i went through this morning and fixed some of the typos bc i posted this at like 2 in the morning without a beta //

Sometimes he woke in a cold sweat. It wasn’t very often, thankfully, but there were nights that ended with him staring down at the mangled body of his best friend. He would sit up in his bunk and rip the blankets off of his legs, feeling constricted, suffocated.  Lights would flicker on and then off again, the others would raise their heads to see what was happening before laying back down to rest. They were used to it, after all, it wasn’t uncommon for soldiers to have nightmares. Not after what they had all lived through.

There were other times, though, even months after Marco’s death, that Jean awoke slowly. He would crack his eyes open slowly and wince at the sunlight before closing them again and turning his face into the pillow. He would throw an arm over the long-gone ghost of the man he had loved and whisper a soft good morning to him. The rest of the soldiers in the small room could hear it, of course, but no one ever spoke of it. It was just another one of those common occurrences, albeit a much more painful one.

Everyone had lost someone, so no one said a word.

They all figured Jean was just delirious when he woke up.

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure how his hatred for Eren had become so deep-seated. He knew, deep down, that Eren was a genuinely nice and caring person, but still he couldn’t ever bring himself to feel anything but irritation at the presence of the other boy.

He learned, with time and practice, how to make good use of it. He and Eren would spar solely with each other during practice, learning how to focus each of their movements so as to best the other. They would return to the mess hall sweaty and panting afterwards, both too exhausted to argue. No one ever complained.

When they first fought, their techniques were rough and their sparring sessions almost always ended in both of them on the floor, each trying fervently to pin the other down. One or both of them would sport injuries afterwards, whether it was a split lip, bloody nose, or blackened eye. They would stare at each other over the table at dinner, they would trip each other up on the way back to the bunks, but they still would not fight.

 

* * *

 

“What’s the matter, Jean? No Marco here to help you out?”

Jean’s jaw locked with anger, the sound of Marco’s name being sullied by Eren’s filthy tongue ringing in his ears. “Don’t you dare bring him into this, asshole,” he growled, teeth grinding harshly against each other. Eren saw his opportunity, and he seized it. Dancing on feather-light feet, he sidestepped Jean’s angry swings with ease. He nipped in close and laid a soft blow on Jean’s cheek, more in jest than actual anger. Jean all but snarled at him, but Eren just laughed.

“Or what, you’ll bite me? Hit me?” He punctuated each question with a light punch. “I’d like to see you try, _horseface_.” Jean lashed out in blind anger at Eren’s taunting nickname.

“I’ll kill you, you bastard,” he ground out, stepping closer only to to be hit softly by Eren once again. _Is this some sort of game to him?_

After a few more hits, he realized that pure flailing wouldn’t be enough to beat Eren, so he put his fists down and took a step back, calculating.

“Giving up, Jean? That isn’t like you.”

Jean didn’t answer, only stepped closer to Eren again and assumed an offensive stance. He watched a token shit-eating grin spread its way over Eren’s face before the other boy raised his fists again to counter Jean.

 

* * *

 

When they fought, it was like a dance. They were fluid, both of them stepping around the other with grace and ease. Some pairs stopped fighting to watch the two of them, but they didn’t notice. They moved together like brothers, like twins, like lovers, but neither could ever get a blow in. Adrenaline surged through Jean’s veins, everything he saw became sharper and more in focus. Eren and Jean danced together to the rhythm of a song that neither could hear, a song that resonated within them as Eren attempted to swipe the little wooden knife from Jean’s hand. The beat of their steps pounded in their chests and in their ears, and if Jean was a romantic he might even think their hearts were beating in time.

They broke apart at the return of the commander, breathless and red-faced. Jean extended the knife to Eren, handle first.

Eren accepted it.

 

* * *

 

They hadn’t made peace with each other so much as channeled their passion into other places. What was once spiteful challenge became friendly competition, two kindred spirits trying to better each other and themselves. They only fought during training, exchanging friendly banter and teasing jabs any other time. Jean found himself wondering why he had ever hated Eren at all.

 

* * *

 

A year had passed since Marco’s death, and the nightmares still refused to disappear. Visions of his face, mangled and broken, swam through Jean’s head every time he closed his eyes. Vivid images of his body torn limb from limb danced behind his eyelids, taunting him, torturing him for not having been strong or brave enough to save his best friend.

_I’m strong enough now, Marco. Can you see me? Are you proud of me?_

Damn near everything he did was for Marco. He fought, ate, slept, lived for the boy who could not. He had never been a religious man, but every night he found himself looking up at the stars and asking if Marco could hear him. could see Jean living his life for him.

A year had passed, and Jean had come to terms with the fact that the only person he had ever loved was dead.

 

* * *

 

Jean was the last to mount his horse, and that earned him a glare from his squad leader. He glanced back and ducked his head in apology, pulling the reins tight to keep his mount from shying her way out of formation. He looked around as he did so, at the friends he had made while in the Survey Corps, and wondered how many of them would die on this expedition. His gaze swept over Sasha, Armin, Reiner, Mikasa, Eren, Connie, Bertholdt. These were his friends, these were the people he had faced hell and high water with, these were the people that he had protected and been protected by for four years.

He would do anything to ensure their safety. Titans be damned, conduct be damned, commanding officers be damned.

The order was given, and they set off.

 

* * *

 

They made camp in a small grove of trees a few dozen miles outside of Wall Rose. Bedrolls had been laid down, the fire had been stoked, guards had been posted, and the regiment had eaten. Jean savored every last bit of his food, knowing that rations were small - speed was of the essence on this expedition. He ate slowly, sitting close to the fire so he and his food would stay warm.

Around him, soldiers were hurriedly finishing their meals and crawling into their blankets for some well-earned rest, but Jean was nowhere close to tired. He watched as the camp went slowly from bustling to silent, the rest of the soldiers either sleeping or up in the trees keeping watch. Jean finished his soup and added his bowl to the pile of dishes to be done in the morning.

He waved a goodnight to Connie and Sasha, who were settling down to sleep, before retreating to his own bedroll. He laid down and closed his eyes, but sleep refused to come. In its stead came thoughts of Marco, visions of him lying propped against the wall, bitten in half or crushed or god knows what happened to him. Groaning, he sat up, knowing that even if sleep did eventually come it would be fitful. He pulled the covers off of his harness-clad legs and went to go relieve some tired soul from guard duty.

 

* * *

 

Leaves rustled as Jean hoisted himself up into the tree Eren occupied. Eren started, but relaxed when he saw who had joined him. He turned his head to look at Jean for a moment before gazing back at the trees.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Can’t,” Jean replied simply. He sat down on the branch beside Eren, the wood sturdy enough to support them both and more. Eren nodded in response, lifting his chin and staring up at the few stars visible through the leaves. Jean followed his gaze before looking over at the next sentry, sitting in a nearby tree with blades drawn. He looked down at his bare waist. “Should I have my gear on?”

“You should be fine,” Eren said. “I’ve got mine.”

They fell back into silence, the only sound between the two of them being the rustling of the trees. Eren was stone-still next to Jean, eyes scanning the trees for any sign of movement. Jean looked up at the sky, searching for Marco’s face in the stars.

Eren broke the silence first. “What do you think we’ll find in Shigansina?”

Jean shrugged, looking at the other boy. “What do you want to find?”

“Don’t really know. I always thought I’d get answers there, but…” Eren trailed off, and Jean fiddled with the straps on his legs.

“But?” he prompted.

“Ehhh. My dad was always pretty cryptic.” Jean nodded in understanding.

“What was it like there?”

Eren looked away. “Does it matter? We aren’t going there this expedition.” Jean didn’t answer.

For a long time, neither one spoke. Occasionally, there would be a noise from the camp, but it always died down within seconds. Again, Eren broke the silence.

“Why did we hate each other so much?”

Jean shrugged and sighed. “I don’t really know, to be honest. I mean, at first it was Mikasa, but then you were never really together and I met Marco so it didn’t really matter in the end. I guess I just didn’t know how to feel anything else for you.”

“Obviously you figured it out.”

“Actually no, I still hate you,” Jean replied somberly, but a teasing smile managed to work its way onto his face. “Suicidal bastard.”

“Horseface.”

“Titan breath”

“Toupee.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Eren said sheepishly, raising his hands in defense. “You started it.”

Jean laughed softly, looking down at his hands. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Eren fiddled with the straps of his harness. “You know, Jean, you’re a good leader.”

Jean smiled wistfully at that. “Marco used to say the same thing.”

“He was right, you know.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

There were a few seconds of silence before Eren spoke again. “You really did love him, didn’t you?”

“That’s not- I’m not-”

“No no, it’s okay. You’re talking to me, after all, remember? Can’t really get much gayer than me, except for Reiner.”

“...Yeah. I guess I did.”

“You’re lucky, you know that? He was too.” Jean looked at Eren quizzically, waiting for him to explain. “If I could find someone that loved me half as much as you loved him, I’d be the luckiest man alive.”

Jean looked at Eren, seeing him in something like a new light for the first time.

“You know, maybe you will.”

 

* * *

 

Now, when they fought, things were different. Hands would rest on chests, they would press into each other more than dance away from each other. Anyone who watched (and they still had quite an audience) would say it was almost erotic. More than once, Jean found his back pressed up against Eren’s chest as the latter grappled for the flimsy knife he held in his hands. Even more so, the opposite happened.

It was no secret to anyone who saw them fight that there was something there besides pure competitive drive. Jean and Eren, however, were oblivious.

 

* * *

 

_He rounded the corner, eyes peeled for any uncatalogued bodies. The day’s work was almost over, and Jean looked forward to peeling the grime-covered gloves from his aching hands. He scanned the street, catching sight of a body leaning up against a house and heading towards it._

_As he neared it, previously blurry details were brought into sharp focus. A mangled body sat there, an arm and half of a face missing. The mouth hung grotesquely open, the lone eye glazed over in death. Freckles dusted the cheek, neck, and arm._

_Freckles._

_“M-”_

_Jean felt like he was about to throw up._

“Marco!”

Jean woke with a harsh shout, air filling his lungs and burning his throat. He sat straight up, shoulders heaving and eyes wide. He could hear the others stirring, but it was as if they were miles away. All he could see was Marco’s face, torn in half with one eye staring off blankly into the distance. Something dripped onto his skin, and he raised his hand to his face to find he was crying. The realization triggered a wave, and within seconds Jean was hunched over himself, shoulders shaking and soundless cries escaping his mouth.

The light shut off, and a voice called out, tiredly, “Go to sleep, Jean.” He attempted to calm himself, laying back down and pulling the blankets over his shaking body. Rest did not come easy, but it did come. Eventually his breathing had evened, and he was nearly asleep.

His sheets rustled, and his eyes snapped open. Heat pressed up against his back, much warmer than a human had any reason to be, and Jean knew, without looking, who had come into his bed.

“Eren, what are you doing?”

“Shhhhh, it’s okay, go to sleep,” came the soothing whisper. Eren turned so his back was against Jean’s, comforting but not overbearing. Jean was too tired to argue, so he just closed his eyes.

He slept, and his rest was blissfully dreamless.

 

* * *

 

No one ever brought up the fact that Jean and Eren slept together. It wasn’t an everyday occurence, of course, but every time Jean would wake up gasping, Eren would crawl into his bed and stay the night with him. They would never sleep face to face, or with one’s chest pressed against the other’s back, they would always sleep with their backs pressed close together. Jean found comfort in it.

 

* * *

 

Marco had been dead for a year and a half. Jean always found himself a little bit sad on the day of his best friend’s death, but he managed to push through and complete his duties. Everyone had lost someone, and no one was allowed to skip their assignments because of it. Jean was no exception.

He was in the stables, brushing down his horse, when Eren found him. He had a bag in his hand, and his harness was nowhere to be seen. Jean eyed him warily. “Aren’t you supposed to be training?”

“You’ve been in here longer than you think,” Eren scoffed. “Lunch just ended.” He tossed the bag to Jean, who opened it to see bread and cheese. “Figured you’d want something if you were gonna hide out here the rest of the day.”

“Hey, I’m done with my work,” Jean snapped defensively. “You’re the one that shouldn’t be here. Didn’t Hanji say they wanted to run more tests?”

Eren’s face turned sour at the mention of the squad leader’s unconventional methods of research. “Wish they didn’t, honestly. I told the captain I felt sick, so he excused me.” Jean nodded in understanding.

“In that case, you want to go for a ride?” Eren shrugged at Jean’s offer.

“If you want to.” He walked away, presumable to saddle his horse, and Jean did the same.

 

* * *

 

There was a little stream running through the small forest bordering the Survey Corps’ headquarters. It was here that Jean and Eren stopped, breathless from racing, to eat. Jean dug hungrily into the bread and cheese that Eren had given him, while Eren took off his boots and sat with his feet in the icy water.

“You know,” Eren said, “It would be really nice here if there were no titans.”

Jean nodded. “I wonder if this is what it’s like outside the walls. If it is, I shouldn’t have tried so hard to get into the Military Police. I didn’t even end up there, anyway.”

Eren got up and shook the water off of his feet before sitting down next to Jean. “When I was a kid, Armin had this book about the outside world that he would read to me.”

“Isn’t that-”

“Illegal? Yeah. But they weren’t about to arrest a couple kids.” Jean nodded in agreement. “Anyway, he said that the outside world is full of miles and miles of sand, and mountains that breathe fire, and endless water full of salt, and forests called jungles where the weather’s the same the whole year round, and-” Jean could see Eren’s eyes brighten with every word he spoke, and he understood a little bit why the other boy was so eager to reclaim Wall Maria and leave the confines of humanity’s territory.

“That sounds pretty nice,” he said. Eren nodded.

“Nicer than it is in here.”

Jean was silent for a few moments, studying Eren’s face.

“You’ll see it one day,” he said softly, voice no more than a whisper. “We all will, I promise you that.”

 

* * *

 

_“If I could find someone that loved me half as much as you loved him, I’d be the luckiest man alive.”_

Eren was sleeping, back to Jean, but Jean couldn’t even close his eyes. He laid facing the bunk above him, imagining he could see the stars in the sky.

_Can you see me, Marco? Are you upset?_

He looked at Eren sleeping peacefully beside him.

_“If I could find someone that loved me half as much as you loved him.”_

Jean felt a lump rising in his throat.

_Marco, did you love me? I loved you._

Eren slept on, breath even, chest rising and falling slowly.

_Would you be happy if I loved someone else?_

_“If I could find someone that loved me.”_

_Eren, I think you have._

Jean fell asleep facing Eren.

 

* * *

 

Fighting Eren was hard when every brush of his fingers left a burning trail on Jean’s skin. Jean was distracted, fumbling his steps, dropping the knife, allowing Eren to jab him in the side. He stumbled and wound up on the floor with an angry-looking Eren staring down at him. He extended his hand and Eren took it, helping him up. As he brushed the dust off of his clothes, Eren grabbed the knife.

“What’s wrong with you, Jean? You’re doing fuck-all right, what the hell are you doing?”

Jean flinched at Eren’s words, stammering out a timid, “I- I don’t-”

“Don’t what?”

“I don’t feel well,” he finished lamely. “I think I need a break.” He turned and stalked off, avoiding Eren’s eyes as he did so.

His feet hit the floor with heavy thuds, his limbs dragging as soon as he made it inside the dark stone headquarters. He walked down the halls without any set destination, turning corner after corner until he stood in front of a door that led to the unused sickbay. He sighed in relief and entered, sitting down on one of the musty old beds inside. The door was left ajar, but he figured he was so deep inside the castle that no one would be able to find him. He laid down and closed his eyes, trying to will away the ghost of Eren’s touch still tingling just under his skin.

 

* * *

 

“About time I found you.”

Jean sat up, staring at Eren from the bed. “Didn’t think you’d come looking.”

“Did you not want me to?”

 _No, I didn’t._ Jean shrugged. “Don’t really care.”

“Can I come in?”

 _No, go away._ “Go for it.”

Eren entered and sat on the bed opposite Jean, both avoiding the other’s gaze. “Is this about Marco?”

 _No_. “Yes.”

“Can I do anything?”

 _Yes, God yes._ “Not really.”

Eren nodded. Jean looked at him, really looked at him for the first time, and almost wished he hadn’t. The window bathed Eren in a soft golden light, bringing out the sparkle in his deep green eyes and making him look younger, softer. Jean’s breath sputtered and stopped.

“Jean,” Eren said, “you’re lying.”

“What? No, I’m-”

“Yes, you are. Now shut up and tell me what’s really wrong.”

“You wouldn’t like it.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” _Don’t make me do this, Eren, you’ll never forgive me._

“Jean.”

Eren spoke it softly, almost at a whisper. Jean stilled at the way his name ghosted over Eren’s tongue and teeth, swelling and fading with his faint, lilting accent.

Something snapped inside Jean, and he surged across the few feet between the two beds to claim Eren’s lips.

 

* * *

 

Eren looked beautiful, divine, godlike splayed out underneath Jean. His face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide, chest heaving as Jean undid the straps of his harness. A hand came up to tangle in Jean’s hair, petting and tugging encouragingly. Breathy gasps tumbled over Eren’s lips, taking the form of Jean’s name. Jean attacked his neck, alternately biting and licking, reveling in the feel of Eren’s skin beneath his lips.

Eren’s hair fanned out messily over the pillow, circling around his head like a dark halo. Jean thought momentarily of Marco, probably watching them from wherever he was now, but another gasp from Eren pushed the thought out of his head. Eren was not Marco. Eren was most definitely alive.

Jean made quick work of the straps around Eren’s waist and thighs and tossed the harness to the side. He reached up, drew his hands up over Eren’s torso, splayed his fingers out over the toned planes of Eren’s chest before pulling the shirt up and over his head.

Eren moaned loudly when Jean resumed mouthing at his collarbone, dusting kisses and soft bites over his shoulders and chest before trailing his tongue down and latching onto one of Eren’s nipples. Eren gasped and brought his hands to Jean’s head, tangling his fingers in Jean’s soft honey hair. Jean rubbed his hands over Eren’s sides, ghosting them over bare skin before bringing them to rest on the button of Eren’s white uniform pants. He looked up at Eren for confirmation, and Eren nodded at him.

Jean pried open Eren’s pants with ease, lowering his face to Eren’s crotch and mouthing at the bulge in his briefs. He drank in Eren’s moans and gasps, they only fueled him. He took the band of Eren’s underwear in his teeth and dragged it down, making Eren buck his hips needily. As Jean raised his head, he was met with the sight of Eren’s cock, hard and flushed against his stomach. He grinned and licked a stripe up the inside of Eren’s thigh, feeling the other boy shudder beneath him.

Eren groaned, low and needy, when Jean took him into his mouth, moist heat engulfing Eren’s dick in one swift go. His hands flew to the sheets beside him, tangling fingers in white fabric and pulling desperately. Jean smirked around the length in his mouth, looking up at Eren through thick lashes. The sight was breathtaking, erotic in a way that Jean had never experienced before. He brought his hand up and trailed it lovingly over Eren’s cheek before placing two fingers at his kiss-raw lips and whispering one word.

“Suck.”

Eren happily obliged.

 

* * *

 

“Remember what you told me up in that tree when we were on the expedition?” Jean asked, speaking into Eren’s hair as he curled around the other boy. His arm was draped lazily over the brunette’s side, their legs tangled together and Eren’s back pressed comfortably against Jean’s chest. They fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

“Mmmmm, not really,” Eren hummed lazily. “Remind me again?”

“Something like, ‘If  I found someone that loved me half as much as you loved Marco, something something.’”

Eren laced his fingers through Jean’s. “Oh, yeah. That. What about it?”

“I think I love you a bit more than that.”

Eren stilled, breath catching in his throat. He turned to face Jean, one hand coming to rest on Jean’s cheek. He stared into the other’s eyes as he replied.

“I think I love you, too.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos?? comments???!!?!//?


End file.
